To Touch a Falling Star
by Ramzes
Summary: Once a hostage during the Young Dragon's conquest of Dorne, now she is a wife, mother, and the lady of a castle of falling stars. Like a song with happy ending. But is it truly this way for Elsbet Toland - Lady Dayne now? A sequel to Dark As Pride and Bright As Hope.
1. Davos

To Touch A Falling Star

 _Davos_

They buried them at the same ceremony, mother and daughter, as the first stars started twinkling in a sky that was as purple as their eyes and beyond the crypt, the Torrentine whispered its mournful song. Almost everyone of any significance in Dorne had arrived to attend, for Lady Dyanna had been friend to many and as merciless combatant in the resistance and the dance of the Stranger that had filled the last four years as she had been a kind and generous ruler and little Astra's fate, coming home from her prison at King's Landing only to die stirred many hearts.

As the two coffins were lowered into the opening in the floor, Elsbet Toland stole a look at her betrothed – still her betrothed, for he had not refused the match just yet. Davos Dayne was looking straight ahead, not at the lids of the dark coffins taking his last family into the crypt but at some point at the wall. His eyes never wavered and were dry. The cold in the crypt didn't seem to register with him. He looked like a statue among the effigies, only he was too thin and frail to look like he belonged here. Elsbet wondered what the old Kings of the Torrentine resting just under their feet thought of the plight of their House, left to depend on a boy who was still on the mend and a girl whose dishonour was known to everyone. About her, people whispered about Lady Dyanna's last days.

"I looked at her and I couldn't believe it was her. She didn't look like herself. She'd been unable to eat for weeks. She had white hairs."

Yes, war had not been kind on the lady either. Elsbet knew that as one of the chief leaders among those who had resisted the Young Dragon, Lady Dayne had been followed and harassed incessantly, even here, at Starfall where the attempts to curtail her power had been unconcealed. The worry over her daughter, a hostage at King's Landing, had been another burden for her to bear.

"She wouldn't stop asking about Astra till her last day," the woman went on, as if she had read Elsbet's thoughts. "Her maids say she could hardly talk but that was her question: hadn't they returned yet?"

"Shut up already!" someone hissed and the women guiltily did.

"Look!" Elsbet's little brother whispered as soon as they were out, tugging at her hand. "Look – a falling star…"

Through the haze of tears, Elsbet looked. A tiny light was approaching the Torrentine in a rapid, suicidal flight. A little bit of beauty lost to the world just before the heavy mists of the river engulfed the world and the island of Starfall was the only true, real thing there was. She shivered and looked away, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch that short-lived glory.

* * *

Elsbet had never paid Davos Dayne much attention before – he was just her betrothed's younger brother. She hadn't known even Vorian this well. Her brothers knew the Dayne boys better.

Well, just Davos now. Was he still hers? No one would condemn him if he refused his dead brother's intended, now besmirched with the Young Dragon's touch, no matter how unwanted. And still he paid visits to her, still he tried his stilted conversation – she remembered that he had never been clumsy with words before. He had been a joy to be around. She didn't remember much about him but she remembered the joy. His gift, and Vorian's as well.

"Is a year wait good enough for you, my lady?" he asked her one night as they sat in the cool courtyard of the Old Palace and listened to the voices of the Prince and the Targaryen king which came to them faint and distorted. No one of the other people attending spoke – neither Lord Yronwood nor Elsbet's mother or stepfather. A soft night was descending upon them, softer than the one before and softer yet than the one before that one. It whispered of spring that was so far yet and so close still, so nearly within reach.

She held her breath. Until now, he hadn't mentioned anything either way. But he seemed to take her silence as displeasure. "I am sure I will be fine then," he added and Elsbet startled. In the moonlight, his violet eyes twinkled like amethysts, staring at her intently. She had been so engrossed in her own fears that she had never thought that he might have those as well. For the first time she realized what a burden his new state was. Two years had passed since he had been questioned by Daeron Targaryen's torturers to say where Elsbet and her mother and brothers were hiding but he hadn't. And he was still paying for this – he could no longer run or even walk without dragging one leg ever so slightly. He would start gasping for breath without warning often. His left shoulder was stiff because a bone had been broken by the torturers and then once again by the maesters in a desperate bid to correct the twisted way it had reattached itself. It had worked but he'd need years to regain fluidity of movements in this part. He who had always been a blur of pure physical energy, a storm of movement. Could he think that _she_ wouldn't want _him_? Especially when she had Vorian to compare him to. Vorian who the Stranger had made as perfect in death as he'd been in life. _Davos is stuck with life as it is_ , Elsbet thought, _just like I am._ A part of her fear melted away.

"It'll be happy to wait," she said most sincerely. After all, they were both so young. The more they delayed, the more time she'd have to heal as well.

* * *

At the end, the waiting period turned to three years and Elsbet cherished every day of them. Others, not so much. "If he wants to break the betrothal," her stepfather said, "he'd better man up and say so."

"He has no such intentions," his son assured him. "He just needs some more time to recover."

"He looks pretty recovered to me! Certainly recovered enough to do his duty in the first night."

Elsbet steadied her lip with her teeth. He was saying this out of care for her, she knew. It wasn't his fault that her pride would never let her admit how terrified she was by the very thought of the first night. She didn't want to prolong Davos' suffering but every day, every hour that delayed the physical side of the marriage was a good thing in her book.

Her mother didn't say a thing. _Rightly so_ , Elsbet thought angrily. Ileria Toland knew better than everyone just how important good health was in a husband. After all, wasn't Elsbet born out of her despair with her husband's long illness when the young, strong, healthy Alyn Velaryon had caught Lady Toland's eye? Many certainly thought so! Hasn't the Oakenfist used knowledge about Ghost Hill gained through their illicit affair to conquer it, smash their ships, take away Ileria's son's life? Elsbet knew it for certain. It wouldn't be the same circumstances for her but for now, she was glad for her mother's tacit support. No matter the reasons.

* * *

When spring was in full bloom and in the Prince's gardens, there were no flowers with edges seared and blackened by the sun but only the breathing of fragrance and renewal, they were wed in a sept in the shadow city. Not at Starfall where Elsbet had always imagined her wedding would take place before. Not even in the palace sept. A small, dilapidated one. A ceremony officiated by a septon who stank of cheap wine and hadn't changed his robes since winter which had ended two years ago. Even the images of the Seven were quite pitiful. The Father lacked a piece of his nose and Elsbet supposed he had lost it when the smugglers had been dragging their commodities by… in a place like this there simply had to be smugglers. There wasn't any shortage of open-mouthed, shabbily dressed inhabitants of the shadow city who couldn't miss the wedding of the handsome boy who had to be a lordling, with those fine boots of his, and his so clean lady.

"I still have no idea why we're getting wed in this place," Davos whispered.

"Because I want so," Elsbet replied.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell your mother? I am really uncomfortable at neglecting them so. They're at Sunspear, they should have been invited…"

"Not when I say I want just you and I," she said calmly and then her hands went cold with fear and tension as the slovenly septon started droning. All of a sudden, she thought about the Targaryen king. Was he officiating a ceremony right now? She knew that he had repudiated and imprisoned his Queen and felt more than a little malicious content at the thought of Daena Targaryen pacing around the same vault where Elsbet and the rest of them had been imprisoned.

"It doesn't need to happen now, you know," he said later… much later. "I can wait."

That sounded so good, so lovely…

"No," Elsbet said, although her voice was shaking. "Now! Although you might not feel much pleasure with me."

He reached out to take her hand and she was almost sure she heard him mutter, "Nor you with me."

She didn't.

* * *

Sometimes, happiness swam out from the mists and golden surface of the river. A look, a shared smile, the first time she had stayed cuddled up to him after lovemaking without feeling any desire to shake his arms off and bolt out. The day when, closing the book of accounts, she realized that in the last year, Starfall had again reached the income it had gathered before the war. The kicks as she swelled with their first child after three years of marriage and thanked the Seven for not punishing her for that vile potion at King's Landing, after all. The warmth in Davos' eyes when he drank to her health, praising her to their friends. The soft splash of the waves when the two of them sat in the small boat and he rowed, his shoulder and arm finally strong enough. The sight of a falling star when he swept her in his arms and carried her to the window, so she could see it and make a wish... and she didn't startle in blind panic at the unexpected touch.

But it never came to stay. It never was something to take root. While their wounds slowly healed, there was no hiding from the fact that Davos himself was a wound, from neck to knee. Scars that could never be erased. Pains that returned when least expected. _Because of me,_ Elsbet thought, doubling her cares for the ruin of his body. _He got those because of me._ He'd never think to blame her but she blamed herself and guilt made her withdrawn, retreated into herself, her efficiency almost inhuman.

When Astra died and Elsbet had the feeling that she once again she was attending the funeral of the first Astra and her mother as Davos stared ahead, only breaking out of his numbness to say a few words to Ultor and Dyanna whose wide, not quite comprehending eyes were moving between their father, mother, and the coffin being lowered down. They both moved closer to him and Elsbet realized once again that all her children preferred their father to their mother as the last one went quiet in her womb, terrifying her with the sudden fear that he or she might have died and was lost to her, just like Astra.

Later, the other women came. Elsbet often wondered if it was Astra's death that had prompted Davos to seek others. Sometimes, even she saw herself the way he saw her – quartered in the marble crypt that she had built within her to house her grief. She kept going on because surviving was all she knew. But while happiness had come to slits and pieces to her before, now unhappiness was all there was. There was nothing that could compare to the loss of a child but she still hurt when Davos finally decided that he was tired of waiting for her to want him as much as he wanted her. Tired of the sudden involuntary jerking of her body sometimes when he reached out to embrace her. Tired of her inability to feel explosive joy the way he could, the children could. Tired of everything about her.

"And the worst thing is, I cannot even blame him," she confessed to Marisia, a fellow former-hostage and now her goodsister. "Fifteen years! What more could any woman want from a man? He's kept faith with me for fifteen years despite my… peculiarities."

"You can change." There was plea in Lady Jordayne's voice. "I am sure you can if you try. He loves you, you know that."

But Elsbet knew it was impossible. It had taken years for her to stop herself from trying to deter Davos' desire instead of accept it. Their girl's death seemed to mark a line of acceptance that they would never have what they want. And each of them dealt it in their own way.

He was still with her, of course. In her bed, in her life. Sometimes, she even enjoyed the bed part. More often now, when it was no longer reserved for her alone. She doubled her attempts to please him in their everyday life and found out that it pleased her as well, for he didn't want anything that she did not desire herself. And he reciprocated. Perhaps his infidelities could be the very thing that could bring them together in a better way than before? Elsbet didn't know but hope sprouted, as gentle as a flower in early spring, as pale as Ultor and Astrea's hair as around them, the world changed. A young and charming prince died, having turned into an obese monster unable to rise from his bed. A realm bowed to a new king who revered books and knowledge and the Dornish queen next to him. A girl of silver hair and brilliant smile arrived in a palace built for her to start a life meant to be hope itself. In the castle of falling stars a king announced that Elsbet's daughter was to be his goodaughter. Dyanna was deliriously happy and once again Elsbet felt the falling star so, so tantalizingly near, yet getting out of her reach.


	2. Dyanna

**Thank you, VVSINGFTHECROSS, for reviewing!**

To Touch a Falling Star

 _Dyanna_

After Astra's second nameday, hardly a day passed without Elsbet telling herself how lucky she was that they were in Dorne where the lack of a son and heir wasn't something that bothered most people. Sure, the Daynes had kept many of the old ways for many years but they had gradually adopted this very important part of the Rhoynish ways which was not the case for all Dornish Houses. She and Davos had a daughter and heiress and that was good enough. His own mother had been Lady Dayne in her own right and she had done a very good job out of it.

Maester Symor and two midwives constantly assured her that she would conceive again, that there was no reason for her not to, but they all looked surprised when she finally did. And none of them looked like they could be a great help when, a few days after her son's birth, she realized that something troublesome had happened to her. For the first time in her life, she couldn't make it to the privy in time and she was shocked to learn that it was all too common after childbirth. "It will get better," the maester assured her and the midwives suggested that perhaps she should talk to her mother or some elder relative. As if! Elsbet felt so unclean, so ashamed that she was wetting herself more than her babe was. And she couldn't hide it from Davos for long either, although to his credit he pretended to believe her excuses of being too sweaty and all when the acrid smell made it abundantly clear what the liquid staining her smallclothes was.

And then, just when things started getting better, her moon blood didn't come. She spent this second pregnancy in the span of a year and four months in quiet terror that this birth would leave her actually soiling herself uncontrollably – but when her babe arrived, for a short while all fears were forgotten.

She had never thought of naming a daughter of hers after her goodmother – Lady Dyanna had been too formidable, too much of a legend now. But when she saw the newborn's wide open eyes staring at her – she knew that after births, most children kept blinking, like kittens, but hers was staring, trying to turn her head this way and that and find her bearings in this new place of torches, heat, and air filled of sweat – something tugged at her heart, a string that she did not know she had possessed. Her new daughter was too small and thin despite Elsbet's efforts to eat for two, so the lines of her face were unusually well-defined and while that was a small comfort for the mother of an almost starving babe, it allowed her to notice the resemblance, in those sharply incised cheekbones and fine nose. Her hair was thick and wet and while it was possible that it would fall, to be replaced with new, permanent one, Elsbet was sure that the black colour would not change. She looked like Dyanna Dayne, so she had to be a Dyanna Dayne – and the smile in Davos' eyes when she told him about her desire made her even more certain that this was just the name for their babe.

* * *

Dyanna's first word was an untruth – only later would her mother realize how fitting it was. At six months, she pointed at the globe-lamp and said, "Sun-sun". The toothless smile lighting her tiny face melted her mother's heart. From this moment on, the untruths started piling one on top of another until Elsbet was finally pushed beyond the limit of her patience. As sweet as Dyanna was – and her daughter could melt the heart of everyone she met, - Elsbet would like to be able to hear, "What a lovely day!" and not look up to make sure it wasn't night. Those weren't lies, exactly, but Dyanna seemed to see things that weren't there or conjure an entire swan from a tiny feather that was usually a duckling's one. And that worried Elsbet. A woman needed to know the true world and her own place in it if she were to survive. If it had been Dyanna in that vault at King's Landing, she would have probably found another explanation for the absence of moon blood and her weight gain and realize that there was a babe only she'd start _having_ it. When, of course, it would have been too late.

"She's going to learn," Davos often said when she paced around their chamber, pouring out her concerns. "Let her enjoy her imagination. She will settle with time."

"Or if she doesn't, you won't care," Elsbet accused. "You think her perfect just as she is."

He didn't deny it. No, he watched her with calm eyes, sipping at his wine. He rarely lost his balance. "Of course I do. She has the prettiest smile…"

"And she bestows it indiscriminately upon everyone she meets!"

He was right, of course. That was what worried her most. Her daughter made waste of all her advantages, her charm, her looks and smile, her love of learning. At seven, Dyanna already spoke three languages quite successfully and her head was always in a book when she wasn't running around or toiling in the garden – but she hoarded knowledge for the sake of knowledge itself. She refused to learn how to use it and there was nothing her mother or Septa Angarel could do to change that. But she was quite successful in getting people in trouble! From convincing Astra to eat her glair for her – which resulted in bright red spots – from having a guest of theirs break a rare glass vase by sticking her hand in to take over the stuck bracelet Dyanna had thrown in there, Dyanna's wits were used in a way that was horrifyingly unproductive. And Davos kept shielding her. Even when they returned from their first trip to Dragonstone, it was Septa Angarel who told her that her daughter had made the other girls there rebel against their state in life by embellishing the station women in Dorne enjoyed – and they had suffered the consequences. Davos had muttered that he had… forgotten.

"You make a worse liar than her," Elsbet said curtly and set about finding a proper punishment. It would be Dyanna's second for the same delinquency but her mother didn't feel even the tiniest guilt – she was sure that the girl had done something that had stayed uncovered, so things were balanced out.

"She takes after me," Elsbet's mother claimed proudly and while she hoped that Dyanna would grow up as level-headed as her grandmother, she couldn't help but think of Ileria Toland's own reputation within the family and friends – the repute of a masterful teller of colourful and mostly untrue tales. And so far, Dyanna hadn't even mastered the weapons she was given, squandering them on petty foolishnesses and avoiding getting caught for her mischiefs. With growing up, refinement became as ingrained in her as her stories but that was all there was. The beauty of a star that might turn everyone's heads as it fell but would be soon forgotten by all. _Daena Targaryen would have eaten this one for morning meal without breaking a tooth_ , Elsbet sometimes thought but she felt comforted that her daughter would have nothing to do with the Targaryens. Ever.

* * *

Until Dyanna and Maekar Targaryen somehow managed to get each other abducted by outlaws. She barely had the time to feel relieved at their return when another announcement hit her: Dyanna would be _wed_ to the boy.

"Never," she said curtly, pricked her finger with the needle and dark drops stained the pale silk piece she was working on. Davos, quite sensibly, had chosen to inform her about those plans when they were alone – or almost. He knew that she'd never agree to that. Maekar wasn't known for cruelty or viciousness but he wasn't known for mercy either. He was sullen, silent, lacking any charm at all. He reminded her of the Young Dragon, with his grim determination to put Dorne under the soles of his boots. The Young Dragon who had taken her maidenhead over her sobs. This boy didn't seem to possess even the refined manners with which Daeron Targaryen had tried to make it up to her. Not that it had worked. And he was appallingly skilled at arms, although he was still learning – another thing that increased Elsbet's worry. He was nothing like his mild-manner father of the quiet strength. He kept it all inside but his strength was quite _outer_. When Dyanna provoked him – which was only a matter of time since they looked as hostile to each other as Elsbet had never seen her daughter to anyone, ever, - he would likely give an outer expression of his rage. And no one, no one would be able to help her. A dragon was a beast huge and callous enough to swallow a fallen star without even noticing.

"Why?" Michael Manwoody asked. "I know the boy, Elsbet. He isn't the nicest company but he's honourable and fair. He'll do his best to treat her with respect."

But she couldn't believe _this_. Fortunately, Dyanna had no wish to be Maekar's princess. She'd set him straight because he wanted her no more than she did him…

Until it turned out that the reverse was true, for both of them. Dyanna was positively shining when she was describing her future wedding to little Astrea who listened to her open-mouthed. She wouldn't hear any of Elsbet's warnings what not to do if she was to avoid inflicting a husband's rage on her… and the lessons of how to tolerate the marriage bed.

"He'll be very tolerable for me, I'm sure, Lady Mother," she said, laughing in a way that made Elsbet sick when she imagined those pale hands on her daughter's vulnerable flesh. She still remembered the calluses on Daeron Targaryen's paws. She had had the bruises from those for days afterward. During the shameful act, she had been sure that he'd break her neck just with the hardness of them.

"So you… like him?" Elsbet asked, stunned. That was the last thing that she could have expected.

Laughter disappeared from Dyanna's face. She started arranging her mother's pillows with utmost care, avoiding Elsbet's eye.

"I do not," she denied and paused. "I do. I don't know. But I want to wed him, Mother. That, I do know. Perhaps I like him, after all."

Was she _in love_? Elsbet didn't know. The feeling itself was foreign to her. But she knew that with Davos and Dyanna herself wishing for the match, she had no way to stop it. Her fear didn't abate but her resignation grew. She comforted herself with the notion that Dyanna had started making use of her talents, at least. Her daughter now knew how to put her charm in effective practice. It wouldn't be this bad… She could carve a niche for herself there. She could.

"We'll have a lot of work to do before we leave for King's Landing, then," Elsbet said and laughed, determined to find the bright side of the situation. "The court will be disgruntled, of course. Another Dornish invasion, even a temporary one."

She looked at Davos who had stopped at the door, staring her with expression that she didn't recognize. "What? What is it?"

"It's nothing," he said quickly and when her puzzled expression didn't change, he insisted, "It's nothing, truly. Would you care for some rowing?"

Immediately, she gave him a bright smile. "I'm coming. Just wait a little," she said and while he went to give orders about the boat, she turned to their daughter once again. He had alleviated her concern and that was good because he didn't want to look back in time – they had worked so hard to leave it all behind. But now, he knew why Elsbet had not wished for her family to attend their wedding. She had done it for him, to spare him a pain that he needed not feel. She had a large family while he had lost all of his.

Their wedding had been peculiar and a fond memory for him. Would it still had been if they had wed here or in the sept of the Old Palace? He knew the answer. Elsbet would have been surrounded by people who loved her; he would have been alone and thinking of his parents, Vorian, little Astra. Even before they truly got to know each other, before they made their life together, she had known.

Behind him, Dyanna's voice rang out bitter and full of grief and he realized that he had missed their final exchange. "Can't you just forget about your past and be happy for me? Wish me happiness? It's over, Mother. Mariah Martell is queen in King's Landing. The war is over and has been for a long time. It's all in the past!"

For the first time, Davos understood why Elsbet feared Dyanna's imagination so much. Dyanna was such a good liar that he couldn't say if she was just trying to convince her mother or making herself believe that the things she had seen in the Targaryen court had never taken place or had been just small, isolated accidents. For her sake, he hoped it was the first.

* * *

In the beginning, Dyanna's letters home were very infrequent and Elsbet could push her concern down only so much. From the very beginning, the girl had known that her mother was the only one she couldn't deceive so she didn't want to write joyous lies that would only sadden Elsbet because she's feel the untruth. The start couldn't be an easy one with a husband like Maekar and people she was taught to distrust and they, to distrust her in turn. But when she was five moons along, it was as if a dam had broken and a river was unleashed to run wildly. Letters started arriving every week, or even twice a week, letters about the babe and the garden Dyanna was designing, and the court artisans she was a patron of, and the ladies she had been given and those she had chosen herself. And Maekar, of course. She never omitted this one, although she only mentioned him briefly, attuned to Elsbet's distrust and dislike of him. That was a good bridge reaching between them despite their differences. The fall of a star that linked Elsbet's existence to her daughter's. Dyanna spoke of visiting them soon or having them visit but after the arrival of her second son, she seemed to have abandoned those plans. Her letters grew strangely bland and impersonal and then stopped altogether and Elsbet was sure that it wasn't because of something that _she_ had done. But even the worst corners of her mind, she couldn't have expected that the news the dark raven wings finally brought over one day would be this bleak. Once again, the life she knew was over. The falling star was once again escaping her reach.

 **The End**


End file.
